Memory is Key
by ragna ayanami
Summary: "What is your name?" The woman's soft voice cut thru the southern man like a sharp knife. His name? My name is...Pale blue eyes widened in growing dread as nothing came to mind. "I-I don't know."
1. Ghost in the Forest

**Note:** This is a story that's been nagging me for some time and I decided to write it. I'm still continuing 'Ring of Fire', there's no doubt there. This story is just a side project, a pet peeve.

This story will follow the show's events, no comics here. And yes, this is going to be a DarylXOC.

* * *

Stinging pain.

Gasping breaths.

Sore muscles.

A man ran thru the withered, cold forest like his life depended on him. His life _did_ depend on him. If he stopped, he would die. No question.

There were three people chasing him. People…no, he couldn't call them that. They resembled more like human shaped creatures that suffered massive trauma but were still able to walk. Open stomachs, missing limbs and organs, large chunks of flesh missing or hanging, and still they walked. Ran after him like he was their salvation…or dinner.

The man didn't know if these things wanted to kill him or eat him or both. It didn't matter. His speed didn't slow down one second.

It was laughable to call his run a run. He was more power jogging, barely any faster than the monsters behind him. He couldn't help it, his ankle was all messed up. He didn't even know how he sprained it, it just was.

He looked behind him and noticed with horror that the monsters were closing up on him. They weren't going faster, he realized, he was slowing down. A cry escaped his lips. He did not want to die here, in this dead forest chased by possibly cannibalistic monsters. But he could feel his strength leaving him, the muscles in his legs giving out, his breath shortening and his vision morphing and blacking.

He knew it wouldn't be long before his body shut down completely. He had been running for what seemed hours, or maybe even days, his fogged brain mused. The man wondered if he'll ever reach any sign of civilization or just someone to help him. He had no weapon to defend himself otherwise he would have tried stopping or killing those things.

His vision was dimming again. Time was shortening…

He could hear them right behind him, growling and groaning. It was the most sickening sound he heard in his life. Could almost feel their rotted fingers brush against his back and their foul breaths at his throat.

The man's eyes widened when his foot got caught in a thick root protruding out of the ground. He could see it, him falling in slow motion like in the movies. It was stupid, but that was how his brain processed what was happening. The man collided with the harsh earth and he felt the breath leave his lungs. He hit the ground chest first, leaving him breathless. Without losing a beat he tried to get up, but his legs gave out from underneath him. The nerves in his lower body no longer cooperated with his body and as such, he remained on the ground.

His breaths came in faster and he rolled onto his back. The first monster was seconds away from reaching him. With a loud cry, he dragged himself backwards, expression settled in pure, unadulterated terror.

He was going to die.

_I'm. Going. To. Die._

The monster's arm reach towards him and the man closed his eyes, resigned to a gruesome and painful death.

But it never reached him, because in that moment the man heard a faint twang and a whoosh. Somewhere at the back of his head, there was a small part that told him that he knew those sounds, but in these current circumstances the thought was soon forgotten.

The man watched in shock as an arrow embedded into the creature's forehead and how it fell atop his legs, dead. With what little strength he had left, he kicked the monster off him. With his brain overloading and vision wavering, he tried to make sense of what was happening.

The next creature closest to him received the same greeting as the now dead one and it soon joined its peer into endless sleep. There were two more creatures left and the man watched as another two arrows put them down.

Once there were no more monsters after him, the man slumped to the cold ground, his body shaking from the adrenaline. Sweat was pouring down his face in abundance and his breaths were so audible and ragged that his throat hurt. He attempted to move his arms, but even they turned traitorous and abandoned him. The only thing he could do right now was lay there and breathe.

His eyes moved to the side once he heard twigs snap behind him. At this point, he didn't even care if it was a creature or a human; he was too dead tired to. In his barely focused field of vision, he spotted a pair of black combat boots stop beside his head. His eyes moved upward, but he couldn't make out the muddied shape. He could tell that this person was dressed from head to toe in camouflage gear. The man spotted the shape of a compound bow in the person's hand.

This person looked down at him for a few seconds before moving forward. His hand shot up and weakly grabbed a boot, but the person didn't stop. As his hand slipped from the leather material, the man could only stare up into the naked branches and the grey sky and wait. For what, he did not know.

He could hear rustling up ahead and bodies being moved, and not a minute later the person returned to his field of vision. The man was about to utter a word when it died in his throat. The compound bow was now reloaded with an arrow pointed straight between his eyes.

"Were you bit?"

It was a woman's voice. Husky and muffled, but the female lilt was unmistakable.

"What?" He spat out gruffly. He was surprised he could even voice out his words, since his panting still hadn't subsided.

"Were. You. Bit?" Each word was accentuated with visible breaths from the chilly morning.

_Bit? By who? Those creatures?_ "No."

The woman shifted and her grip tightened on the bow. "What's wrong with your leg?"

"I don't know."

The woman shifted to so her boot could reach his foot and prod his ankle. The man hissed in sudden pain before cursing foully her manhandling of him.

The woman grunted knowingly before restoring her position. "Why are you out in the open without even a coat? You do realize its December, yes?"

"I don't know." He had become aware of his lack of proper clothing in the low degrees, but his run had kept him warm enough for him not to notice. But now that the adrenaline was wearing off, he could feel it against his skin, biting him to the bone.

He heard a sigh, before the arrow receded. The woman took a step back and he saw her place the arrow somewhere behind her. She then crouched beside him and he could see her face closer…or lack of. Her head was covered entirely by tinted ski goggles, a black ski mask and a dark cap.

"Where did you come from?"

"I don't know."

"Is that all you know what to say?" Her somber tone had a irritated edge to it.

"Look," Ire rising, he tried to move but his body was still in shut down mode. "I don't know how I got here. Just help—"

His sentence was cut short by the sudden feeling of bile rising in his throat. The woman took a step back rapidly once the man turned to his side and emptied the contents of his stomach. Some of his bile splattered on her boots and the man didn't hear the low curse.

Once he stopped, the woman moved closer to him and raised a closed fist in front of his face. At first the man thought she was going to hit him, but then she raised a gloved finger and moved it slowly from one side to the other. The man's eyes followed it at her instruction albeit slowly and sometimes his eyes would go in a different direction than the one intended.

"Did you hit your head?"

"I don—"

"I get it." She waved him off, already having anticipated his answer. "Puking. Memory distortion. Hazy vision. You probably have a concussion."

_Great_, his mind sarcastically said. It was then that a lightheadedness overcame him and he felt his vision spinning and eyes growing heavy.

"Oi."

The woman warned him, but it wasn't like he could do anything about it. His mind was shutting down, the event leading up to this point wearing him down entirely. Before his eyes shut closed, he heard an exasperated sigh, and the man finally fell into peaceful oblivion.

* * *

The woman stood over the now unconscious man with a furrowed expression.

What was she supposed to do now? Should she leave him here?

The self-preservation part of her wanted to, the last survivors she encountered had definitely _not_ been friendly. She swore to herself that day to keep away from any other people and until now she did. But it wasn't like this meeting was intentional; the man just stumbled out of the forest like a ghost. With a grimace, she realized that this stranger scared off the small deer she had the luck to encounter. Her eyes looked in the direction the deer scampered off and she very much doubted she could ever find it again.

_So much for eating meat tonight._

Her eyes returned to the man on the ground and now that he wasn't talking anymore, she could inspect him freely. He was from the south that much she could tell from his tone of voice. Probably a Georgia resident. And she could tell that underneath that grime, he was somewhere between mid to late thirties with dark blond hair and pale blue eyes.

He was pale and sickly, and the better part of the woman took pity on the man. He wouldn't survive without medical intervention and a warm place.

With a tired sigh, she already knew what she was going to do and cursed her soft heart.

Heaving, the woman readjusted her bow over her shoulder and grabbed him from underneath his armpits and pulled.

_Christ, he was a heavy one._

Her last thought on the matter was that the kid was just going to _love_ their new guest.

* * *

**Foot Note:** I'm pretty sure this is the shortest chapter I've ever written. So, what did you think? I know it wasn't much to base on, and right now I'm struggling with the decision to post the second chapter or not. To clarify some things.


	2. You, My Friend, Are Fucked

**Note: **Here's the second chapter. It's gonna take a while for me to update. I've only had these two written down.

**All characters (except for my OC's) belong to AMC's TWD and to Robert Kirkman.**

* * *

A groan escaped the man's lips. His eyes, his lips, his head, his whole body felt sore. The act of moving was putting a strain on his whole body. His eyes opened and he had to spend the next few minutes getting accustomed to the darkness of the room. The room was a small one-person bedroom with a desk and a chair on the right side of the bed, and what seemed to be a thin metal locker at the foot of the bed. There was a blanket covered window just above his bed on the left and a door behind him.

As he turned his head to inspect the room, he heard the pillow underneath him brush against a coarse material. Now that he thought better, he felt something wrapped around his throbbing head. Tired hands attempted to reach it, but were stopped short when he felt something constricting them at the wrists.

"What the fuck?" He said croakily as he raised his head and attempted to see what was stopping him from moving his hands and even his legs. There were ropes tied around his wrists and one tied around his healthy leg while the injured one was bandaged heavily around his ankle. There was an IV set into his right arm and the man followed the tube to a fluid bag hanging above his bed by a hook on the shelves.

What the hell? Why was he tied up? Where was he? His thoughts raced thru his head too rapidly for him to latch onto one.

"Stop moving." A voice broke the silent spectrum of the room and the man looked behind him. In his panic, he hadn't heard the knob turning or the door opening and he came face to face with a woman. There was a small camp lantern in her hand that barely emitted any light.

"You'll just make yourself dizzy again and I don't want to spend my night cleaning up the sheets because you puked on them."

"Who the hell are you?" The man started squirming in his confinement. "And why am I tied up?!"

The woman moved from the door and placed the only chair in the room so it was facing the bed. She settled the lantern on the desk and calmly sat on the chair. Because she was facing away from the lantern, he couldn't see her face. But then again he barely could see anything else.

"To answer your question, I tied you up for my safety and for yours."

"I don't give a damn! Untie me!" He then hissed as shouting just added to the pain in his head.

"I cannot. I don't know you, so please understand." Now that there was no dizziness to obstruct his thinking or hearing, he could clearly make out a different accent in her voice, but he had no idea where it was from. "And as for who I am, do you not remember?"

The man frowned, they knew each other? He tried to remember if he ever met her and his bungled up memory conjured the image of the forest and the creatures getting killed by a masked person. The person's voice was female.

"You're the woman in the woods." He said lowly now realizing who his capturer/savior was.

She nodded.

"Where am I?"

"Before I answer that, you are going to answer my question first, yes?" She placed her elbows on her knees and leaned forward. "Now, what's the last thing you remember before I found you?"

He tried to remember, he really did. But all that he could see was blurred images that he couldn't understand. "I…I don't know. I just remember wakin' up and then those things chasin' me."

"Do you know where?"

He shook his head. It was dark the place where he woke up, and then his memory cut to him running down a road with those monsters chasing him and then the forest.

The woman was silent as she watched him. A tense atmosphere settled in the room as the woman remained silent making the bedridden man nervous.

"Do you know what year this is?" The question seemed to cut thru the uneasiness of the room like a knife.

What? Of course he knew. It was—

Blank.

"I—"

She didn't wait for his answer as another question escaped her lips. This one he took it like a kick to the stomach. "What's your name?"

"I—" The man started before he lost his voice again. His name…what was his name? He couldn't—he couldn't remember. "I don't know."

Grave silence encompassed the occupants of the small room.

"That's not good." She said with concern marring her tone.

"What?" His breathe was speeding up. "Why can't I remember?"

"Well, when I checked you, you had a serious wound on the side of your head." The woman shifted in her seat and sniffed. "Retrograde amnesia, I'm sure. It happens when external force causes structural damage to the brain. People that experience this have temporal or sometimes permanent blanks in their memories from before the time of the trauma." Her explanation was that of a detached clinical one, something recited out of a medical book.

At his vacant stare, the woman formulated her sentence in plainer words. "You hit your head very hard and now you won't remem—"

"I know what amnesia is." He cut thru her words. He wasn't an idiot. But then it hit him. If he had amnesia, then—

"Shit."

The woman nodded again aware of the gravity of his situation. "Considering you can't even remember your own name, the extent of the trauma must expand to decades of memories. How fascinating. I've never encountered a person with amnesia this severe. How does it feel not knowing who you are?"

Her awed tone wasn't helping. The man's breathing was now erratic. He could feel his head becoming light and his ability to process thought was rapidly dimming. The interior of his mouth dried up and beads of sweat rolled down his face. His entire body felt as if it was aflame and nausea churned in his stomach.

The woman rushed to his side and placed a hand on his chest. "You need to stop hyperventilating or you're going to pass out." Her tone was firm and left no room for discussions. "Just focus on my hand. Can you feel it on your chest?"

The man nodded shakily.

"Look at it." He did. "Now, move my hand. Breath in and out slowly and concentrate on moving my hand."

The man did as told and attempted to slow down his breathing, but failed miserably. He was too far in.

"Listen to my breathing and follow my lead." She inhaled audibly, kept it in for several second before exhaling slowly. "Keep looking at my hand and hear my breathing and imitate it."

It was a struggle, but he finally managed to control his breathing after a few agonizing minutes. He felt as if his chest was being ripped apart from the inside. It helped when the woman kept reassuring him and telling him that he was doing fine.

Once his breathing subsided, the woman removed her hand from his chest and plucked something from a pant pocket. The man felt a silky material glide over his cheeks, wiping the accumulated sweat. It was cool to the touch and he almost groaned in relief once it ghosted over his heated neck.

"That was close. I thought you were going to black out again." The woman said softly as she dipped the tissue over his collarbone.

"Will…" He licked his dry lips, his mind still a vortex of thoughts. "Will I get them back, my memories?"

The woman answered only once the tissue was so drenched she couldn't use it anymore. "If the amnesia is temporal, then yes."

"And if it isn't?" He didn't need her to answer, he already knew what she would say.

The woman leaned back and threw the hanky on the desk. "Then you should pray."

"When?" He coughed once. "When will they return?"

She shrugged. "It could come to you on a whim or certain events or objects may jog your memory. It's a matter of time now."

The man's head dropped back on his pillow. Not even half an hour passed since he woke up and he was already beyond exhausted.

"No more talking. You need to rest."

"I have questions." Even his voice betrayed his weakened state.

The woman ignored his statement and pulled the blanket back over his chest before standing up. "We'll talk more when you wake up."

"At least tell me your name." He was now drifting between the space of consciousness and slumber.

"Talia." He heard her soft voice as his eyes closed. "But you can call me Tali."

* * *

Tali closed the door behind her silently and with a sigh, leaned against it.

A hand reached up and massaged her brow. A headache was starting to form and she ran out of Aspirins after using them all on her now revealed amnesiac stranger. That along with half of her medicine and surgical supplies, not to mention a part of her food and time.

With tired limbs she disentangled from the door and headed towards the main area. She needed to make an inventory of what was left and what she needed to search for on her next run. Her guest would need more medicine and they needed extra food urgently. This was the main reason she had been in the forest, canned food was becoming sparse in this area and she had tried her hand in hunting. Although, even if she had caught it, she wouldn't have known where to start with it. She wasn't a hunter, not by a long shot.

Stepping into the main area, she was greeted by the sight of a teenager lazing around on a dilapidated couch. Once the boy heard movement, he pulled his legs back so the woman could have room on the sofa.

"Well?" The teenager sat up beside the woman.

Talia stretched her legs on the coffee table and leaned back on the couch, rubbing her forehead. "He's got amnesia."

"What?"

"Yes, I know how that sounds." Her hand dropped in her lap.

"And you bought that?" The teen jumped to his feet and paced in front of the couch agitatedly. "He could be faking it!"

"No…I think he's genuine." Tali sat up and marched towards the adjunct room. She was going to need to write some questions for him as a test to assert what he remembered and not.

"Wait." The boy followed right behind her. "He's staying?"

Tali entered a small, narrow pantry where various provisions were stored in. Food, toiletries, any other usable supplies. "I can't just kick him out, Daniel. Not like he is right now."

"Yeah, you can." He snorted as he watched her scavenge for paper to write on.

"Do we have any pads or notebooks?"

"Second rafter up." He answered without missing a beat. "We don't even know who this guy is. He could be an axe murderer for all we know."

"He could be a lot of things, but right now he's just some poor sod without memory and a bum leg." Finally finding a pad and a pen, she passed the youngling on her way out.

"What about supplies? Are we just gonna halve our rations so we can feed this guy?"

"Just until he recovers. Then we send him on his way." The man couldn't move for now, and he probably won't for at least a month. His ankle had been sprained badly and considering his current mental state, he wasn't in any capacity to be on his own.

"What if he doesn't want to go?"

"Then we'll force him out." They'll tie him up, blind him and leave him somewhere far away with some supplies to survive.

Tali settled back on the couch and starting writing her questions. "I'm going to head out in the morning and find some medicine and food."

The teen plopped on the couch beside her and sighed heavily. This was a bad idea in his mind. Tali should have never brought the man back. If she didn't want to be cautious, then he would. He won't let anyone destroy what home they had here.

"What time do we leave?"

"_I'm_ heading out. You're not coming."

"What?!" He straightened out immediately with wide eyes.

"Someone has to stay here and watch over him." She tipped her head towards the room where their guest was.

"He's tied to the bed, he won't cause any trouble." She didn't seem to hear him as she scribbled away. Goddammit, he hated it when she did that. Tune everything out and go into her own world. But even more, he _hated_ being ignored. With a huff, he jerked her by the arm so she paid attention. "Tali, you can't go out on your own, you said so yourself. We stick together _always_."

"I know what I said, but not right now." Her brows furrowed and she pulled her arm out of his grip. "I don't know how long I'm going to be gone and he's going to need food and bathroom breaks. I need you to keep your eyes on him."

"But—"

"No, Daniel." Her tone was final, but her eyes softened at the worried look he was giving her. "Don't worry, I'll be fine. How do you think I survived before I met you? I'm not helpless."

He swallowed heavily. "The last time we went out, I almost died and what they wanted to do to you…" His words died out, nausea building up in his throat.

"I know." The memories of that time still churned her stomach. "That won't happen again. This time I shoot first, no questions asked."

The boy sighed as he leaned back into the sofa. There was no reasoning with the adult. Once she settled on something it was very hard to make her change her mind. His eyes wandered over to the closed door where the intruder was. Once Tali came back from her little excursion—which she didn't even tell him about just left him a note—she came back with an unconscious, dirty man with an injured leg. She told him that she had found him in the forest, getting chased by ghouls. Her only explanation on why she brought him back was that he was injured. Just because you see a wild dog with a broken leg didn't mean one should approach it or even rescue it.

He didn't like the man. He looked too much like those assholes they encountered. Daniel knew that he would keep his gun trained on him the whole time. If he made one move he didn't like, he would shoot him without remorse.


End file.
